I was at LAX chilling at my gate and starting to wonder why my flight hadn’t begun boarding. All of a sudden, the man next to me asked, “Are you on the 2:30 flight?” I said, “Yes,” and he immediately responded, “We are at the wrong gate.”

The gate we were at was also going to Atlanta, but at 3:30. I always check my gate, so I’m not entirely sure how this happened, but I guess I was a bit too relaxed. I had the perfect seat, was charging my phone, and was peacefully enjoying my airport time—and then, instant panic.

I sprinted over to the right gate, and to my surprise, they hadn’t started boarding yet. I don’t know why I get so nervous about missing a flight. Maybe because it actually happened to me once, or maybe because I’m permanently scarred by Home Alone. Looking around, lines were already forming, but for what exactly? They hadn’t announced anything yet. Something that really grinds my gears is hovering, and airport lines give me that exact feeling.

There were barely any open seats left—not even on the floor against a wall, which is what I normally opt for when time is tight. Instead, I stood awkwardly behind a chair that was facing a window. It was a very weird spot to be squatting. I spent a minute trying to convince myself, “I’m fine, I’m not actually in the way, it doesn’t matter,” but I finally gave in to my anxiety, got up, and looked for a real seat.

At the airport, everyone wants space. Even when sitting at the gate, people will aggressively hoard seats with their bags just to avoid others. Knowing this, I was not excited to go hunting, so I scanned the room for the safest person who I knew wouldn’t be mean to me.

I spotted an open spot next to a little girl with a bedazzled backpack and her mom. I asked the mom if anyone was sitting there. She said no, and I went ahead and sat down.

Immediately, the kid turned to her mom and said, “Wow, she has such good manners, did you see that?” The mom smiled and said, “Yeah, haha, she was very polite.” I was secretly thinking to myself, “Awwwwwwwwww, they think I’m sweet.” The little girl was probably just learning to make sure she says please and thank you herself, but even if the moment felt a little funny, it was the absolute sweetest.

I put my headphones back on and got ready to cue up some music when the little girl tapped me. “Do you want a Jolly Rancher?” My brain went into a brief spiral: Is her mom going to think it’s weird if I accept candy from her child? Am I literally taking candy from a baby? Is this socially acceptable?

I surprised myself and said, “Ooo, yes please, I would love one!” She asked, “What flavor?” I responded, “I’m good with whatever! I love all the flavors,” while silently praying, “Ooo, I hope I don’t get grape.”

She pulled out a blue raspberry. How did she know that was my absolute favorite?! She was the kindest soul ever—she talked to me, complimented me, and handed over the reigning champion of Jolly Rancher flavors. Are you kidding? She’s awesome.